


Too close

by kamerer220 (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-04 16:21:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kamerer220
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had been too close to see how in love with Sherlock Holmes he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too close

**Author's Note:**

> I suggest listening to Too Close by Alex Clare while reading this. It inspired this fic.

This might be a little extreme but as he stood staring at Sherlock's headstone, he thought this had to be how Jesus' followers felt. So much promise suddenly dashed. One day proclaimed King the next day spit upon and rejected as nothing but a fraud. Oh that a miracle would happen, oh that Sherlock would be alive in three days.

Three years later-  
He had taken to jogging listening to music on an mp3 player his sister Harry had insisted on buying him. He had recently discovered a soul singer by the the name of Alex Clare the song was called “Too Close” it was as if the man had seen every moment of his friendship with Sherlock Holmes and written it into song. He had it on repeat as jogged through the park near Baker street. He couldn't find it in himself to give up the old neighborhood completely, healthy or not. He turned a corner into a copse of trees as the refrain hit and that is when he spotted the man he thought he would never see again. Looking ethereally beautiful with his coat collar turned up against the wind. Damn him.  
“And it feels like I am just too close to love you” pounded through his brain as he hit the pavement. Too close that was it, he had been to close to Sherlock and had finally lost his mind.

“Sherlock!” He woke up gasping. It took him a few minutes to realize he was not at home nor he was in the park but rather the flat that had become his whole world three years ago. He hadn't had the nerve to come back to Baker street always inviting Mrs. Hudson back to his flat for tea. He thought to see Baker street without Sherlock would give his death a finality he could not bare.

“John, I am sorry to have frightened you, are you allright?”

As his eyes finally focused and his breathing turned back to normal he realized that the subject of his every dream and waking thought was standing in front of him.  
He once thought they were too close but after the distance of three years he knew there would never be too close to Sherlock. He looked at him. His eyes that saw the mysteries of the universe that John wanted to drawn in. His perfectly chiseled cheekbones, the damn coat he just wanted to grab hold of in order to drag Sherlock closer. Who cared if the earth went around the sun? Sherlock was the star his world revolved around. He wanted to comb his hands through his unruly curls now cut short, He wanted to taste his wrists, He wanted to bite his adam's apple. He wanted to consume Sherlock the way Sherlock had so utterly and devastatingly consumed him so instead he decked him.

“I deserved that.”  
“You better believe you did you bloody git.”  
And if Sherlock being alive wasn't enough of shock he then stood dumb founded as Sherlock made him tea.

It was less than a day and half when he was moved back into 221 Baker street.

He woke up feeling like he had fallen through the rabbit whole. A petite blond woman he had never seen before was setting a shockingly clean table with the tea service and what appeared to be a full continental breakfast. She heard him pad his way into the room, looked up and smiled. He decided his stomach need food before he got answers.

“Hello, my name is Angelica, Mycroft hired me to look after things until Sherlock was fully adjusted.”  
He gave a non-committal grunt as he lifted his teacup to his mouth. He noticed the instant Sherlock entered the room.

“Don't mind me just popping down to the Yard to hand in some reports to Lestrade concerning the last of the Moriaty gang. I will back later this afternoon.”

“Text me if you need anything.” He managed to reply.

“Will do.” and with his usual dramatic flourish he was out the door.

“You know he is not going to disappear.”  
John released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.  
“I haven't managed to convince myself of that just yet.”

“So if that is the case why haven't you told him you love him?”

John dropped his teacup.  
Angelica, if that was her real name, with the women Mycroft employed one never knew, didn't even blink.

“Come John anyone with eyes could see the way you look at him. And Mycroft watched how you grieved for him. If your honest with yourself weren't just grieving for someone you considered a friend.  
If your not acting because your worried about Sherlock's feelings for you well, the fact that the man willingly jumped off a building for you, more importantly willing allowed the destruction of his reputation as a genius be utterly destroyed in order to protect you, that should put any of your doubts to rest. And before you raise any objections to the difficulties, considering the two of you have overcome death I would only think everything else would be rather easy to handle.”

John finally recovered his voice. “People don't talk like this to people they don't know.”  
“People don't usually come back from the dead either. People don't think like Sherlock Holmes and they certainly don't act like you Dr.Watson. The two of you are quite possiblely the bravest men England has ever known would you really run from love?” After that speech she collected the tea service and went about cleaning the flat as if she hadn't just stripped every single one of John's defenses bare. He needed some air.

His musings found him catching a taxi to the spot that had shattered his world three years prior.

He stood in front of the hotel looking up as if he could divine the answers from the building's masonry. He turned to leave when he stopped short. It was Sherlock.  
“John I am sorry I couldn't tell you anything... I don't know how to make it up to you..I just..

“I love you.” Once he felt too close to love him now John felt to far away.  
What had the song said “I can't lie no more I must be true to myself” Well here he was Dr. John Hamish Watson who had been so certain of his boring staid existence of his heterosexuality, of so many things before he had met Sherlock Holmes. He stepped up closer and pulled him by the collar of his coat silencing what he knew would be the myriad of Sherlock's objections but frankly there was nothing either of them could really say . This time when the fall came they had each other to brace the impact.

**Author's Note:**

> unbetaed, thanks for reading!


End file.
